God is the fizz/pop of a failing light bulb.
God is Wagner’s Götterdämmerung.
God is a warning sign on a sharp bend.
God is a shoe salesman in a designer shop
or an invisible splinter in the sole of your foot.
God is the knot in your umbilical cord.
God is one segment of a chocolate orange
or an ice cube in a shaken not stirred.
God is a teaspoon of honey in your hot toddy.
God is butter melting on toasted crumpet
or an onion on the chopping board.
God is a sandwich cut into tiny squares.
God is the steady drip of a leaking tap
or a pair of curtains that gape in the middle.
God is an old phone in the back of a drawer
or a set of cookie cutters in fancy shapes.
God is a dandelion clock on a windy day,
the scent of wet earth in a forest.
God is a daub of yellow paint on blank canvas.
God is a game of truth or dare.
God is a broken windscreen in the fast lane
or a hit and run on a dark street.
God is the black rain of Chernobyl,
a lone wolf in the Carpathian Mountains.
God is a white feather on your path,
the gardener who prunes hard every winter.
A Snail’s Pace
Like God, he/she moves in mysterious ways
hidden within a pearly spiral, an apex, a beauty
or a monster depending on your point of view.
Undulating, pedalling in a wave of his/her creation,
a little bit of rhythm and a lot of soul, leaving signs
in the morning light seen only by poets and posties.
She/he is everywhere but invisible; weaving magic
in the green silken night, clinging to the mossy slabs
of country churchyards or clustered by the rowans.
Like God, the Gastropod is a loner needing no mates.
His/her locomotion conquers all, crossing every path.
You must mind each crushing step and wait.
Footnote1:- Lyrics quoted from Locomotion by Little Eva.
Footnote2:- y=speed of land snail, x = length of snail’s foot
And here’s Little Eva performing her 60s classic pop song…
“All perfection in this life hath some imperfection bound up with it, and no knowledge of ours is without some darkness”.
Thomas A Kempsis – The Imitation of Christ.
If only Eve could don a straw hat and vanish to the Isle of Paros!
Instead, she was trapped in the Garden, weaving hard lines
of blood as the beginning people judged her pink lady tears.
Where was her power over water? Lilith dried out in the desert.
They shall possess her forever and dwell there
from generation to generation.
As the mushroom cloud rose over the maroon lagoon
Eve wondered if it was, in fact, a good time for a trip.
She was wearing her lucky pearls and the new horizon
walking boots, birthday gifts from the ferryman.
It is He who casts the lot for them,
And with His hands He marks off their shares of her.
Sad to see swine die but she was really more of a snake person.
So she turned her last page with the left hand
of darkness and prepared to recycle her perfect skin,
gala smooth and hoping for first prize. Ka-Ching!
“There is no light without shadow, and no psychic wholeness without imperfection.”
“You are just as connected to the Universe as a finger is to a hand, or as a branch is to a tree. The entire cosmos is expressing itself through your being.”
— Joseph P. Kauffman